Fourth Wheel
by K.C. Cee
Summary: Kenny finds himself alone in South Park after graduation, and attempts to seek companionship in an unlikely place. Unfortunately, Tweek just can't relate, and has problems of his own to deal with. Slash: KennyTweek, CraigTweek.
1. He Was Left Alone

**Fourth Wheel**

**Chapter One**

It was Monday.

Of course, Mondays lost all meaning to Kenny as soon as he graduated. The week after commencement, he had picked up a second job at a fast food restaurant that extended to Saturdays, and sometimes Sundays. So of course, the weekends had also lost their meaning. And at first, Kenny didn't mind. What frustrations he did have were vented through rigorous three-way one-on-one games of basketball with Kyle and Stan, or through fights with the fatass that were both verbal and physical.

No, it wasn't until Kenny realized that slowly, one by one, the denizens of South Park that he had grown up and graduated with were slowly disappearing that he began to mind.

The first to go was Clyde. Kenny didn't think that Clyde Donovan was smart enough to even step foot on the campus of any college, but he was gone all the same. It may have been his whole family who moved after waiting for so long for their son to graduate so they could leave without any problems. Whatever the reason, all Kenny knew was that he was in Denver now, and that Clyde was not the only one who would suffer this fate. Is "suffer" the right word?

What seemed to be the whole one week of actual summer weather passed, and snow began to descend on South Park, Colorado once again. And then Bebe Stevens left. Her family had probably remained. She would be all the way on the other side of the United States to study to become a lawyer or marine biologist or whatever. Again, Kenny didn't care. What he did care about was what would happen when "summer" began to draw to an end.

And end it did, much too quickly for Kenny's tastes. Dying really sped up time for him, and it lessened the amount of time he could spend with his friends or earn his wages. That Monday morning, as he was lying in his bed, Kyle would begin his classes in California, and Stan would start his next week in Nebraska.

Kenny lurched upwards when he felt as if his heart were falling to the pit of his stomach. Either he was beginning to feel lonely already, or his nicotine cravings were starting to gnaw at his brain. He glanced at his alarm clock. Nine thirty-six. His father would not be up yet, and his mother would already be at work. Kevin had been long gone for a year now.

He threw off his blankets, then lightly stepped onto the ground. As quietly as he could, he opened his closet to slip into a blue hoodie and jeans after looking through barely enough clothing to last him a week, then fished out a pack of cigarettes and his wallet from the night stand by his bed. After a quick scan around the room to make sure he had picked up everything he needed, he carefully opened his bedroom door and moved quietly through the house. Before passing his father's bedroom, he pressed his ear against the door to confirm that he was still asleep. He could hear Stuart McCormick inside with his deep-throated snoring.

Kenny scampered quickly and silently to the door, taking the keys off of the set of hooks nearby, then exited the house, making sure to close the door with as little noise as possible.

In the driveway sat his pride and glory: a green pick-up truck that looked as if it were about to turn orange and brown from being overcome by rust. Nevertheless, it ran well enough, and despite its shabby appearance, Kenny was proud to have it after spending over a year saving up from the countless jobs he had held. Sure, the air conditioning didn't work, although there was no real need for it, and the heater had ceased to function last year, but it still got him around town. He needed it to get from one job to another on time.

He swung open the door and started the car, then turned his attention to the house door, ready to slam the car door shut and pull out of the driveway if anything so much as stirred inside the house. The truck was the family's only source of transportation at the moment, and he didn't want to lose it today. Stuart never hesitated to hijack Kenny's truck, issuing threats of kicking him out of the house (even though he had started paying rent once he turned eighteen) or turning him in for not having car insurance if he didn't let him have it.

However, after starting the truck, not a sound was heard except for the dull hum of the engine. Sighing, Kenny shut the door and rolled down the window, then proceeded to light up his first cigarette of the day. Kenny knew that smoking was bad for him financially, but health-wise, he didn't care. Lung cancer would just be another speck on the list of causes of his many deaths. No, he only cared about the money it took away from his pocketbook, and he knew he was a fool for starting. His apathy was the only thing getting in the way of him quitting.

After a couple of minutes of waiting, Kenny realized that the feelings in his stomach and mind were not going to go away. God, he felt like such a pussy.

Chewing on the filter of the cigarette, he rolled up his window and shifted into reverse, then pulled out of the driveway. He shifted into drive, then paused, right foot still on the brake pedal. Where to go, where to go?

Kenny didn't have work until that afternoon. He had been fired from his last day job at McDonald's because they would not tolerate his absence from his deaths. Almost immediately he had applied for another job, but the interview for that wasn't until that Wednesday.

He could call Stan. Yeah, that's what he would do. Just a quick check-up to see how things were going. Maybe to hear the sound of a friend's voice again, but Kenny would never admit that for fear of sounding like such a fag.

But still, where to go? There were payphones in or around every business in South Park, and he could stand to eat a quick breakfast.

With no destination in mind, Kenny took off, going over the railroad tracks and then speeding up. After trekking through the neighborhood, he arrived at and sped past the first restaurant in sight: McDonald's. Butters worked that shift, and he didn't feel like putting up with the stuttering boy after having dealt with him for the duration of the six months he worked there, nor did he feel like fast food today.

Today, he felt like going wild with his money. A two dollar meal instead of one. Maybe even three. Hell, why not splurge a little and get a soda to go with it? His stomach rumbled in agreement with the thought. An exquisite, fine-dining meal it would be, then.

Kenny flicked the remains of his cigarette out of the truck window. Again, where? What was in South Park that was in between a fast-food joint and a steakhouse?

The first place he spotted was Harbuck's. From what Kenny had heard, they had donuts. Expensive, two-dollar donuts and comfortable, cushioned seats. Yes, that would do.

He pulled into the parking lot by the Harbuck's building. It was empty, save for a couple of cars parked here and there. There were no vehicles in the employee parking area. He pulled into the closest parking spot designated for handicapped users only (there was only need for one, anyway; didn't Jimmy's family leave two years ago?), and killed the engine. The inside of Harbuck's seemed dead. The lights that were on were the only things that said otherwise.

An unseen bell tingled as Kenny stepped inside. Immediately, his nostrils were filled with one scent and one scent only: coffee. No, no, there was more than one. Different flavors of coffee. Kenny didn't know any of their names, but they were there. And there was also the smell of- the smell of cake? Other baked goods?

But that one smell that the combination of baked goods and coffee formed was familiar, and it belonged to someone he would occasionally pass in the halls of high school or sit by in a small classroom. It belonged to Tweek Tweak, and there he was, standing in front of the counter, mopping up what looked like spilt coffee.

Of course his family wouldn't have left South Park like all the rest. They actually had their own business here, and thus a valid reason to stay. And what would Tweek do? Of course it would be too much pressure for him to have a go at life alone.

Kenny greeted him with a, "Hey, Tweek." This was, of course, followed by the predictable shriek and foot-high jump in the air. Kenny grinned. It had been too long since he last picked on- or, what everyone else called it, _bullied_- poor Tweek. It had to have been- what, since the end of middle school, the beginning of their high school career? All he could remember was Craig telling him to back off of messing with Tweek, and Kenny, not caring to start a feud with Craig, thought it best to grant him that one favor.

Nonetheless, even after four bully-free years, Tweek was still standing there, eyeing him warily, ready to defend himself to the death with his mop if Kenny struck. After all these years, and who knows how many sessions of therapy, that poor kid still shook like a leaf. At least in his presence, as far as he could tell.

Tweek went back behind the counter, some of the coffee still present on the floor. He took a deep breath, and in a perfectly calmed voice, stated mechanically, "Welcome to Harbuck's, how may I help you? Kenny?"

Kenny could hear the reluctance in his voice, and the little squeak when his name was spoken. Shit, so the kid was still afraid of him. He rolled his eyes and approached the counter, then glanced through the baked goods sitting behind a glass display case.

"Two glazed chocolate donuts." His gourmet meal, and for just under two dollars.

"Coffee?" Kenny looked up at him, confused. Tweek clarified: "Ngh! Would you like any coffee with that?" His voice started to gain that familiar strain that was present whenever he tried to string more than just a few words together without crying out.

"And end up like you, man? Fuck no," Kenny declined in the most polite manner he could.

"Jesus Christ, what are you talking about?" The strain was becoming ever more present in Tweek's voice. Kenny supposed he normally didn't have such lengthy conversations. "It's just my- ugh, my ADD acting up. It's not contagious," Tweek added as he pulled out the two donuts from the glass case and stuffed them in a little bag. "Is that all?"

Kenny nodded, pulling out his wallet and taking out two one-dollar bills. He handed it to Tweek and received his change, after a few seconds of Tweek methodically, slowly counting out the right coins from the cash register.

"Where is your payphone?"

Tweek pointed to the wall adjacent to the counter and opposite from the entrance to Harbuck's. Kenny thanked him and grabbed the small bag with his five-star restaurant meal. He set it on a table by the phone, then pulled out his wallet and drew out his phone card.

The fifty dollar phone card was one of the few things Kenny kept in his wallet, and thus on his person, at all times, along with any cash he had outside of the bank and his debit card. Kyle had given the phone card to him before leaving town two weeks back, making him promise to call him and Stan at least once a week, since they would not be able to call him. Kenny's father permanently disconnected the phone five years ago, deciding there was no real need for it. Emails and letters seemed too impersonal to the three friends.

Kenny punched in the numbers engraved on the phone card, followed by Stan's cellphone number that he knew by heart. Another piece of Kenny trivia he would never tell anyone else.

As the phone rang, he grabbed a chair from one of the tables and settled down in it, prepared for the long conversation he so desperately needed to cure him of what cigarettes could not. Unfortunately, that conversation was not to come. The voice mail picked up, first with the mechanical female voice informing Kenny that Stan was not available, then Stan's own voice stating his first and last name, and then the beep that told Kenny he could leave a message.

"Hey dude, it's Kenny. You better be getting laid, that's the only excuse I'll take for not taking my fucking phone call. Do you know how much this is costing Kyle, you ingrate? Anyway, I'll try calling you back later during my dinner break or something. Talk to you later, man," he finished half-heartedly, then hung up the phone.

Kenny looked around until he spotted a clock on a wall. He hadn't even been able to kill thirty minutes, and there was no way in hell he was going back home, even though that was where he had all of his Playboys stashed. Right in between his mattresses. There was still plenty of time before he had to go to work. God fucking dammit.

And then there was Tweek, still behind that counter. Now he was looking in Kenny's direction, shaking, worry sketched all over his face. Nervousness. As soon as they made eye contact, Tweek jerked his head away and started to count a cupful of straws.

Kenny wondered how much company someone who was constantly afraid of him would be. Probably not much. At least not in Butters' or Clyde's case. He started to consider picking up one of the whores that liked to hang around Raisins. Hell, he could even swing by Cartman's house and torment him for a while. Cartman was the only one of the gang who was considerate enough- although whether this was a blessing, Kenny couldn't tell for sure- to stick around. And why should he leave? His mother probably let him stay inside all day and stuff his fat face with Cheesy Poofs.

He turned his attention back to Tweek, who had spilt the cup of straws and was now frantically trying to retrieve them all. Silently, Kenny stood up and scooted the chair back under its designated table, stowed his wallet back inside his hoodie, and walked over to Tweek to help pick up the straws. Tweek said nothing but a murmured, "Thanks."

Kenny picked up the last straw and set the cup back on the counter, away from Tweek's jittery hands. "Hey. You're not too busy right now, right?"

Of course he wasn't. It was nearing ten. Anyone in their small, redneck town who had developed a taste for coffee would be at work at the moment. Still, Tweek seemed reluctant to writeoff his status as momentarily unoccupied. Kenny wondered if Tweek remembered that shiner he had given his right eye back in the sixth grade. Kenny did. It was after a particularly bad morning consisting of getting ran over by a car and surviving, only to get eaten alive by rats anyway. The afternoon after, Tweek just had the nerve to ask him for a pencil. He also wondered if he remembered all of the times he chased Tweek into one of the girls' bathrooms. Or...

"Um, no. It's normally slow around this time. Ngh, doesn't pick up until lunch time, then Jesus Christ, so many people..." Tweek grabbed hold of his out-of-control blonde hair with his left hand and closed his eyes, either envisioning his future situation or trying to make the thought of it disappear.

"Sit and talk with me." Kenny made sure that his request came off as sounding like a demand. He was pleased to find that he still had a hold on the boy as old as the fifth grade when Tweek obediently took off his green apron and left the counter, sitting at the table occupied by Kenny's donuts. He nervously drummed his fingers on the table as Kenny followed and sat across from him. Kenny took out his first donut, then looked up at Tweek.

"Dude, stop that. Get yourself some coffee or something."

Tweek scurried from the table and went back behind the counter to fill up a large cardboard cup of coffee, and quickly returned to the table. All the while, he kept glancing at the door, waiting for a potential customer. _As if waiting for someone to rescue him from me_, Kenny thought, rolling his eyes.

Tweek silently sipped his coffee, occasionally emitting a small, distressed cry of "ergh" or "Jesus." Likewise, Kenny quietly ate his donuts, but didn't utter a sound. It wasn't until Kenny finished his second donut, both of which tasted just like any other little donut, and was thus deemed hardly worth the two dollars, that he decided to strike-up a conversation.

"How long have you been working here?"

Tweek's eyes gave an involuntary twitch as he thought. "Um, ever since it opened. But I've only been working at the cashier for... gah, two years? I don't know, don't ask me!" The last sentence was almost screeched out, and Tweek sipped at his coffee, rapidly tapping his fingers against the surface of the table once more.

Oh God. Kenny couldn't believe he was really going to go through with his conversation with Tweek. He was already starting to spazz out.

"Calm the fuck down, Tweek. I'm not going to bite you."

The tapping started to slow down, but Tweek was still frantically sipping at his coffee. There was silence once more. Kenny rubbed his forehead, trying to gather his thoughts.

"Alright. So, Tweek. Have any of your friends stayed around South Park after we graduated?" Kenny really felt as if he were talking to a little kid. Slowly. Carefully. Walking on eggshells, making sure he didn't say anything that would offend.

"Clyde's gone to Denver. Token's in, um, Massachusetts. For college. Craig's going to the community college in Westhaven, but he still lives here. I still see him sometimes."

Finally, something to talk about that wouldn't make him freak out.

"Yeah, it's basically the same situation with me. Stan's off in Nebraska and Kyle's in California, but Cartman's fat ass is still glued to his couch here."Kenny snatched Tweek's coffee and took a swig, then returned it to Tweek before there were any protests. Tweek stared at the cup with a look of utter horror on his face. "What?" Kenny questioned.

"Ergh, nothing," Tweek replied. He pulled the coffee closer to him, but didn't take any more drinks from it.

"Anyway," Kenny continued, "I really don't feel like putting up with Cartman's shit, and the only two sane friends I have are gone until next summer." Kenny wasn't exactly pouring his heart out, but the words that were coming out of his mouth still tasted like acid on his tongue. If acid were rainbow-colored. Still, he hadn't talked to any of his friends for two weeks, and desperation for companionship from someone who didn't rip on him for his economic situation was getting the best of him.

Tweek was silent, listening. He even stopped tapping his fingers against the table, but he still wouldn't drink from that damn cup. Kenny decided it would be safe to take the rest of the coffee, and he did without any protests from the other. He wasn't particularly fond of the taste, but it was still a free drink.

"But I've been keeping mostly busy with work. Except now. I have a job interview on Wednesday to cover my morning hours. The work sucks, too, but it's nice having two incomes. Except a lot of it goes to my parents. Can you believe they're charging me for rent to live with them? And they even have the balls to threaten to kick me out every once in a while, when I'm practically providing their livelihood. Can I smoke in here?"

Kenny whipped out the pack of cigarettes from his hoodie, about to pull a single stick out. However, Tweek snapped out of whatever daze he was in and shrieked, "What? No!" He jumped up and leaned over the table, ripping the pack out of a surprised Kenny's hands then throwing them across the coffee shop.

"What the _fuck_?" Kenny quickly jolted up from his chair and sprinted to retrieve his cigarettes as if someone were going to pick them up and fly away with them if he didn't get to them on time.

"No smoking!" Tweek screeched. The one customer that remained in the coffee shop now had his attention directed at the two as Tweek dashed behind the counter like it were some sort of force field that would protect him from Kenny's wrath.

Kenny picked up the pack of cigarettes and whipped back around to glare at Tweek, who just continued to cower behind the counter. "Ergh, uh, I think you should leave!" Again, that strained voice. Kenny just rolled his eyes.

"What the fuck ever, Tweek." Kenny pocketed his cigarettes and strode out the door, but not before saying, "See you tomorrow."

He wondered if Tweek was freaking out at the idea of his return, but looking back would ruin his dramatic exit.

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**Endnote: **Well, there's the first chapter. This is actually my first piece of fanfiction in... years and years and years. I've decided to pick it up again to try to improve my dismal writing skills (or lack thereof). Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it, or that it was at least not too painful to get through. Hopefully I'll be able to pull out a chapter a week. And as for the fanfic itself, it will be alternating between Kenny and Tweek, and hopefully they'll remain at this length, or longer.


	2. He Could Not Say No

**Fourth Wheel**

**Chapter Two**

It was Monday.

Mondays were the worst for Tweek because he knew he had a full week ahead of him. A full week of standing behind that counter for eight hours until his father took over for him, having to deal with the early morning and lunchtime rushes without any aid. When he was still in high school, he would work in the afternoons after classes and Mr. or Mrs. Tweak would be there to supervise him, but ever since the start of the previous week, he had to switch to the earlier shift and go at it alone.

Something about gaining more responsibilities now that he was an adult. After he had had the proper amount of therapy sessions, of course.

Tweek's gotten as used to it as he could by now. The bell on the door would still sometimes scare him when business was slow and customers were infrequent. There were still the occasional spills and every once in a while, an angry customer he would have to deal with by spazzing until the offender in his otherwise routine life left.

Tweek lived for that daily routine. Unfortunately, Tweek also didn't have any room for intruders in that routine. So when Kenny left Harbuck's that morning, after freaking out then promising he'd return despite this, the first thing Tweek wanted to do was sprint to the back room to call someone on the store phone. Anyone familiar. His mother or father, Craig, Clyde, even Token, though his parents would kill them if they found out he'd used that phone for long distance calls.

But Tweek restrained himself. He told himself he had to learn to calm himself down. Deep breaths. He closed his eyes, breathing as deeply as he could, until he felt as if he could move from behind the safety of the counter.

First, he had to clean up the mess left. Tweek returned to the table that he and Kenny had inhabited. He carefully picked up the cup that Kenny had taken a drink from and had given the coffee the addition of Kenny's spit, avoiding touching the lid that contained Kenny's germs. After throwing that and the little donut bag away, he retreated to the back room, then reemerged with a wet clothe that he used to wipe down the table to cleanup the donut crumbs. In the back room again, he disposed of the clothe and washed his own hands, then returned to the counter.

Tweek glanced at the clock. It was almost lunchtime. His fingers were once again tapping the counter. The coffee shop was empty now. The calm before the storm. Tweek could never tell which was worse.

His mind wandered back to the phone. Fuck what his therapist said. He needed to call Craig.

He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and unfolded it, then smoothed it out on the counter. Computer printed was a table that contained Craig's daily class schedule. Below this, written in blue ink, was Craig's cellphone number. Tweek's eyes darted through the Monday class listing, then dropped to stare at the ground upon realization that Craig was sitting behind a desk at that very moment.

_No, no, this is good_, Tweek reasoned. He couldn't keep relying on someone else to calm him down. He'd been leaning too heavily on Craig the previous week when his classes first started. It was also the first week that he started to work unsupervised.

That week, he had also promised Craig that he would slowly work on his short term goals of being alone outside of his own home for an hour without having a panic attack. Unfortunately, the location of the phone was too convenient for him to be able to resist calling Craig whenever he didn't have classes, or Clyde whenever he wasn't working. Sometimes even when he was. Craig didn't seem to care much; Clyde did.

Tweek slowly folded the paper back up and returned it to his pocket. He wouldn't call any of his friends or his parents either, he decided.

So, up until the lunchtime rush hour, Tweek sipped on coffee and tried to concentrate on making himself stop shaking to keep his mind off of the store phone in the back room, serving the occasional customer. Lunch came and went. Harbuck's was crowded with anyone and everyone in South Park who held a job and could afford to take their lunch breaks in there, ready to get a quick shot of caffeine to help them get through the rest of their miserable day.

After the quite successful lunchtime scramble (he only freaked out once and spilled a cup of coffee on one customer, Tweek would later proudly tell his father), Tweek occupied the rest of his time helping the odd customer and cleaning the coffee shop.

It was two when Mr. Tweak arrived to switch shifts with his son, and when Tweek left the coffee shop with the largest cup of coffee Harbuck's had to offer, he found Craig standing on the sidewalk by the building, flipping off a group of passing teenage girls, who shot indignant looks and confused glares right back at him. Tweek sighed and pulled off his green apron as he approached Craig.

"You didn't call me all day, Tweek."

Tweek stopped just a couple of feet short of Craig. He sounded angry, but just looked annoyed. Still, Tweek didn't want to take his chances, even if Craig did stop being a physical bully towards Tweek at least a half a year ago.

"Ergh, you told me I needed to stop calling you so much!" Tweek screeched out in his defense.

"And it took you a good week to, so now I'm used to talking to you every day, and I've been lonely all day today. Now you're going to spend the rest of the afternoon with me while I do my homework." Craig took a set of keys out of his pocket and strode over to the parking lot where his old blue Ford was parked. Tweek hated that car, and he hated riding with Craig.

"You never do your homework," Tweek pointed out, opening the back door and sliding into the seat behind the front passenger's side, then buckling his seatbelt. Safety first in the safest seat a car could have. If one could call a car safe.

"Yes I do." Craig jammed the key into the ignition, but didn't turn it. "Jesus Tweek, did I already start the car, or is that you vibrating back there?"

"Gah! If you're just going to pick on me, then I'm just going to go home!"

Tweek's only answer was a middle finger as the engine finally roared to life and Craig swerved out of the parking lot of Harbuck's. Tweek instinctively grabbed onto his seatbelt with his left hand, the door handle with his right as they sped down the street. Sure, Tweek hadn't received any punches to the arm whenever he said something that was stupid or "gay" from Craig in a long time. However, this seemed to be replaced with Craig trying to freak Tweek out whenever he possibly could. Well, more so than before.

Tweek closed his eyes, and didn't open them until Craig was parked outside of his house. He grabbed his backpack from the passenger seat and slung it over his shoulder, then opened the door for Tweek, who unbuckled his seatbelt and stumbled out.

"You're going to get us killed, you douchebag!" Tweek cried out, giving Craig a light shove.

"Don't be such a pussy, Tweek," Craig responded airily.

Both walked up and into the house, Tweek following Craig. The house had remained practically the same over the years. The same family photographs with a few additions each year as the children of the family grew older. The same old furniture. But it was the familiarity that Tweek liked most about Craig's house. It was like a second home to him.

The boys trudged up to Craig's room (but not after Tweek greeted the family in the living room, where he was giving the family salute from Craig's parents and younger sister before they returned to watching the television), where Craig tossed his backpack by the door, then started to dig through it. Tweek kicked off his shoes and took his normal seat on the bed. He took a sip of his coffee as he watched. When Craig found the book and papers he was looking for, he settled down on the floor with his back resting up against his bed by Tweek's dangling legs.

And then there was silence, except for the occasional flip of a page and scratch of a pencil.

Tweek closed his eyes to savor his coffee as he slowly ebbed away at the contents of the cup. This quiet was a nice change of pace. Normally, when he was at Craig's, he was forced to play video games with him- something he was absolutely _horrible_ at because he couldn't concentrate or keep his fingers steady- or help him with chores.

"Tweeeeek!" The blissful peace was interrupted by the voice Craig had adopted to say his name around the same time the punches to the arm and the painful noogies stopped. It reminded Tweek of the occasional whine Eric Cartman emitted, except it had a hint of a nasally voice and made the hairs on the back of Tweek's neck stand on end. It was but yet another method Craig had picked up over the past year to mentally torment him.

"Jesus Christ Craig, don't do that!"

Craig chose to ignore his protests. "You're going to a party with me this weekend."

"Ugh, no thanks."

Again, Tweek went unheard. "It's at this dude's place in Westhaven. Fatass is driving down from Denver to come, so it'll be like old times again, except the jackass on the other side of the country, of course. It's BYOB, so you'll have to bring enough coffee to last a few hours. I'm sure they'll let you use their microwave if it gets cold."

Tweek responded with only an eye twitch. Craig slammed his book shut and returned it to his backpack.

"There's no way you're done already."

"I'm not, but I'm bored. Let's see how quickly I can kick your ass at Halo."

"I don't feel like... ergh, I don't feel like playing video games today."

"Well there's nothing else we can do."

"We could just talk."

"Don't be such a fag, Tweek."

"You're the fag!" Tweek retorted, his voice starting to strain again. These conversations he's had with Craig several times before, but it still stressed Tweek out. Trying to keep up with the comebacks was just too much pressure.

Craig just shrugged and sat Indian-style beside him on the bed. "So what did you want to talk to me about, sweetie? Are those mean kids bullying you at school again? Oh, when I have a talk with their parents..."

"Gah! You're such an ass!" Tweek gave Craig another small push.

Craig just calmly took Tweek's coffee from his hands, got up, and set it on top of his dresser in front of a Red Racer poster and by Stripe's empty cage.

Tweek cried out a "Gah!" in protest. Then Craig turned back around to face him, and realization hit him like two semi trucks on an interstate. He quickly leapt from the bed and started to sprint towards the door, but his long legs didn't carry him too far before Craig tackled him to the ground.

The two struggled with each other on the floor for a few minutes, but Tweek never really stood a chance. In the end, he just wound up flat on his stomach with Craig sitting on his back victoriously, reminding Tweek that he had been on the high school wrestling team for two years.

They stayed there in silence, until Tweek finally said, "My stomach's starting to hurt, get off of me!"

"It only hurts from all of that caffeine. Now tell me why you didn't call me all day."

"Gnh!" Tweek started to chew on his lip, but stopped when Craig gave him a little smack on his head.

"That's a bad habit."

"So is calling you all the time."

Craig rolled his eyes, even though Tweek couldn't see him doing so. "You're hurting my feelings, Tweek."

"Fine. Kenny came in Harbuck's this morning. It really, ergh, he really freaked me out! He made me sit down and talk with him, then I, then he took out his cigarettes. He was going to start smoking in the middle of the place! So I took them from him and threw him and he flipped out on me and left but said he'd be back tomorrow! That kid's crazy! Now get off of me!"

But Craig stayed there, frowning. "He didn't hurt you or anything?"

"No, he just talked about his friends."

"Why didn't you call me afterwards?"

"You were in class. Then I was too busy. Gnh, get off."

"No. You're like one of those vibrating chairs."

Craig lifted his legs up and used his arms to do a quarter turn so that he was aligned with Tweek, then lied down so that his back was up against Tweek's and his head was resting on Tweek's neck. His feet barely extended past Tweek's like this; he had a couple of inches in height on Craig.

Tweek just continued to stare off to the side. "Ugh, the bottom of your bed is filthy."

"I'll clean it before I move out. Any word on the new Harbuck's?"

"No."

"Well tell your dad to hurry the hell up. I want to get out of this shithole."

They fell in silence once more. Tweek gazed around what little of the room he could see from his position. A few boxes and some odds and ends, such as a red toy car that had been collecting dust for some time, were resting underneath the bed. He could also spot a few cobwebs. The rest of Craig's room was just as messy. To Tweek, absolutely filthy. However, he had been over at Craig's house enough times to get somewhat used to it. Oh, he still wanted to run out screaming at the sight of what seemed to be the abandoned home of a spider or two. The only difference from now and when he first started visiting Craig was that he didn't do just that.

"How the fuck did you get so tall? I thought coffee stunts your growth."

Tweek started to shrug, but that hurt his neck too badly.

Then Craig rolled off of Tweek, who immediately jumped to his feet and returned to his place on the bed. He went back to his dresser and opened the top drawer, digging around in it until he found a bag of Warheads. Tweek stared at them. Did they even sell those anymore? If not, then that bag had to be ancient.

Craig retrieved Tweek's cup of coffee and planted himself beside him on the bed, handing the cup back to his friend. He then opened the bag of candy and set ten pieces on Tweek's lap and ten on his own.

"Ugh. Do those things expire?"

"I don't know, but it's only been five years since I bought them. Ready?"

Tweek picked up a piece, ready to tear it open, and nodded. Craig picked up one of his own and mimicked Tweek. Both looked at Craig's alarm clock, and as soon as the red seven to the far right changed to an eight, they tore into the tiny bags and started jamming the candy into their mouths.

Tweek's mouth immediately began to water, but he resisted the temptation to pucker his lips and show any sign of weakness. One after one, the boys crammed in as many Warheads as they dared. Tweek was the first to need refills from the larger bag, and after stuffing his thirteenth in his mouth, Craig jumped up and ran towards to the trash bin to spit out the remaining Warheads in his mouth.

"Mmhm!" came Tweek's gleeful cheer as he pumped his fist in the air. He crunched down on and swallowed the rest of the candy in his mouth and washed it down with coffee, which left a horrible taste. "We haven't done that since we were _ten_ and I still kicked your ass!"

Craig just gagged and plopped down beside Tweek once more. Then, before Tweek had any time to react, Craig quickly grabbed back of his shirt and yanked him down on the bed. The sudden jerk caused the cup of coffee to go flying out of his hands, and he heard it land somewhere on the floor. The lid probably snapped off, too. Oh God, Jesus Christ, there would be coffee _everywhere_. He wanted to leap up to get it, but Craig was still holding him down, his hand painfully between the bed and Tweek's back as both boys lied on the bed side by side.

"Jesus Christ, Craig! You're starting to- ergh, you're starting to freak me out, man!" His head jerked to the side as his left eye twitched.

Craig turned his head to the side to look at Tweek. Tweek turned his head to stare right back.

"You're such a dumbass, Tweek," Craig grumbled.

"_What?_" Tweek shrieked back indignantly. "You're the one who invited me over just to watch you do your homework!"

Craig shrugged and yanked his hand out from underneath Tweek's back, then folded his arms across his chest. "What do you want to do now?"

"Ngh, I don't know!"

"Calm down, Tweek."

Tweek bit his right cheek and closed his eyes to once again start his deep breathing treatment. After a minute, he felt his heart rate go down, and the shaking subsided slightly. Then there was a sudden stabbing pain in his earlobe. His eyes flew open.

"_Ack!_ You _asshole_! You _bit_ me!" Tweek screeched, jolting upwards.

And the bastard laughed, grabbed Tweek's shirt again, and pulled him back down beside him. "You're too fucking easy." He then pressed his hand against Tweek's chest. "Jesus, you're going to have a heart attack."

"Ergh. Can't you just go back to punching me and, ugh, giving me wet willies?"

Craig seemed to consider this for a moment. He then stuck his finger in his mouth, removed it, and jammed it in Tweek's left ear.

"Gnh!" Tweek flinched when the finger entered his ear, and his right eye twitched.

"Nah. Not as fun." He sat up and strolled over to his window to close the blinds.

Tweek was about to close his eyes and go back to his breathing exercises when he heard that "Tweeeeek." He felt the wind get knocked out of him when Craig sat down a little too roughly on his stomach.

"You know I only pick on you because I like you, right?" Craig grinned down at him.

"Sure," Tweek responded reluctantly.

Craig crossed his legs on Tweek's stomach, facing him, and rested his elbows on his knees, folding his hands together and setting his chin on them, a thoughtful look on his face that was rare for him.

"And you do like me, right?"

"Would I hang out with you otherwise?"

"Probably, since you're scared of me, and you're such a pussy."

"Stop calling me that!"

"Pussy." Craig reached down and ruffled Tweek's hair, somehow managing to make it look messier than it already was.

"Urgh." Tweek stared up at the white ceiling, eyebrows furrowed. He could smell the coffee that was lying on the ground by the bed, probably soaking into the carpet as he lied there. Such a waste. He looked back up to Craig, who was still on his stomach and had a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. "What?"

He just kept on grinning, and stuck his hand back in Tweek's hair, combing through the tangled mess with his fingers. Tweek felt his stomach flip-flop. He squirmed around a little uncomfortably. This was... a change of pace from the usual. Tweek hated change. His routine was being disrupted again.

"I'm going to, um, go home now." Tweek tried to sit up and push Craig off of him, but Craig just grabbed his shoulders and kept him pinned on the bed.

"You're going to go out with me," he said matter-of-factly, but still firmly.

"_What?_"

Craig frowned. "I'm romancing you, dumbass. Pretend I have flowers or some shit. I just asked you to go out with me. Now is the part where you say yes."

"You're just trying to fuck with my head! And I know it was you who's been stealing my underpants for the past few weeks! I haven't seen the gnomes around, it must have been you." Tweek struggled to break from Craig's grip, but to no avail.

"Goddamnit, Tweek." Craig rolled his eyes. "I'm not messing with your head, now say yes."

"Jesus Christ, I'm not gay and you know it!"

"Dude, I've never seen you even look at another girl. You're a total fag."

"No I'm not, and neither are you. You're, ergh, you're going out with Red, anyway."

"I broke up with her last week. Say yes."

"Ngh!" Tweek could feel his heart rate speed up, his panic level rising. What the hell was Craig up to this time?

Craig sighed and released Tweek's shoulders, then crawled off of him. Tweek leapt up as soon as he could, feeling coffee sink into his socks when his feet hit the floor. He resolved to let Craig clean it up himself, and started to move towards his abandoned shoes. He had to get the hell out of there and return to his routine. There were chores to do at home.

However, Tweek didn't even take two steps towards his shoes before he was tackled to the ground once more, this time already landing on his stomach, and before he knew it, Craig was kneeling on his legs and twisting his arm behind his back.

"Say yes!"

"Ack! Jesus Christ, okay!"

Craig jumped up triumphantly, giving a victorious whoop then extending a hand to help Tweek up. Tweek took it and allowed Craig to hoist him up.

"Ugh, this doesn't make me a fag."

"Yes it does."

"Then it makes you gay, too."

"No it doesn't. I like women, and I just happen to like you, too. You're the only fruit loop here."

"Gah!"

**Endnote:**Some things that were mentioned here will actually be explained in the next chapter, like the new Harbuck's thing. Also, Token's name isn't just going to get tossed around once or twice, and that's it. He'll have more involvement, as will Kyle and Stan. Just not as much as Clyde and Cartman, obviously since they're closer to "home". The title will get explained eventually, too.

Also, thanks to my reviewers! It was nice getting some feedback that actually went indepth and described what was liked. Don't hold back from really criticizing me if anyone feels the need to, though! This is pretty much just a learning experience for me, so any type of feedback would be very helpful. Updates will also be regular, probably once every weekend.


	3. He Just Has Bad Luck

**Fourth Wheel**

**Chapter Three**

"I'm sorry, but due to your special circumstances, I don't think we can hire you at this time."

"That's discrimination."

Kenny folded his arms and dressed his face up with his best glare. He wasn't really angry, nor was he very surprised about the outcome of the interview. Of course, everyone in town now knew what his "special circumstances" were that would keep him away from work from time to time. His afternoon job of busting tables would tolerate it. Just about everyone else would not.

In fact, that wasn't the first time that he had to pull the discrimination card. Sometimes it worked, but most of the time, it didn't. Still, it was his last resort. It never hurt to use it at the off chance that it would land him another job for a month or two until he was fired and sent back to square one.

"No, it isn't. It's called good business practices. You weren't very qualified to begin with." Lying bastard. Since when were qualifications needed to fucking deliver pizzas?

The man behind the desk pushed up his glasses and leaned back in his chair, effectively ending the "debate". Kenny sighed and stood up, then extended his hand. The interviewer only looked at the hand, then back up to him.

"Have a nice day," Kenny stated dryly, withdrawing his hand when he realized he wasn't going to get his goodbye handshake. He walked out of the office that was more fit to be a closet, then out of the Pizza Hut altogether.

It was a sunny and cloudless day that would have been fit for the end of summer if it weren't for the snow on the ground. If Kenny had it his way that day, though, it would be storming or hailing. Big chunks of hail that would crash through windshields and roofs and maybe kill a puppy or two.

Misery does love company, and Kenny didn't know who else to share his misery with but his own "best friend forever." So naturally, after being rejected from one of the few places left in South Park for him to seek employment, Kenny's next stop that morning was Cartman's.

Kenny deeply breathed in the mountain air, then hopped into the truck that reeked of cigarette smoke and managed to remain at a temperature lower than what it was outside. He looked at the fuel gauge, which showed that the truck was dangerously close to a need for a stop at a gas station. He fumed to himself, digging his wallet out of his parka pocket and opening it to find that it was empty, save for the phone card, a few one dollar bills, and some spare pennies.

He looked around and tapped his index finger against the steering wheel. There was no way he was going to withdraw from his savings just to get gas until his next paycheck at the end of the week. Gas prices were ridiculous at the moment to begin with, anyway. So Kenny came to the conclusion that he'll have to drive home and start walking everywhere again, until he felt like blowing his money on gas again, or he got another morning job.

Resolution in mind, Kenny started his truck and made the trip over the railroad tracks and into the driveway of his home. Before cutting the engine, he waited for any signs of movement within the house. It was barely past noon, and sometimes Stuart McCormick slept in that late, sometimes not.

None of the curtains or blinds were drawn, and no lights were turned on, and this didn't change a minute after he had pulled up. Deeming it safe, Kenny twisted the key and pulled it out, swung the door open, and jumped out, then turned back around to collect all of the change that littered the floor and stuff it in his pocket. He then retrieved his "adult magazines" from underneath the driver's seat, and gave the truck a once over to make sure he didn't miss anything.

Once inside, Kenny snuck around the house, first confirming that Stuart was still asleep in his bedroom. Once inside his own room, he hid his dirty magazines underneath his bed after making sure the rest of his stash was accounted for. Then he approached his closet and stood on his tiptoes to reach around the top, where he felt a small pillow feather still on top that had been undisturbed since he was last in his room.

Kenny removed the feather and opened the closet door. Inside and on the top shelf was a jar. It was the largest jar Kenny had been able to find, and already it was halfway filled with change. Any type of change but quarters, which were invaluable to Kenny for a cheap, quick lunch from a vending machine they provided.

Kenny screwed the lid to the jar open and scooped out the change in his pocket to dump inside, followed by the change in his wallet. After closing and tightening the lid back on the jar, he closed the closet door and placed the feather back on top of the door.

That was when Kenny heard a door slam. His heart skipped a beat. He was definitely not in the mood to deal with his father. Then again, when was he? Oh, best to get it over with. He shoved his wallet back into his pocket and walked out of his room, shutting the door behind him quietly, then headed towards the front door.

Stuart's voice stopped him before he could place his hand on the doorknob. "Where do you think yer going?"

Kenny looked to his left into the kitchen, where Stuart was standing in front of the refrigerator, holding it halfway open and staring at him blankly, eyes halfway closed. Bastard was wasting electricity.

He shrugged and opened the door. "Out. I'm leaving the truck here."

Stuart just imitated his shrug and returned to rummaging through the fridge.

Kenny stepped out of the house and exhaled, grateful that the encounter was brief. He stretched, taking in the mountain air once more. He may as well enjoy his day before he has to return home. His father was going to kill him when he realized that the truck was out of fuel.

He started jogging, taking a right turn out of the driveway and heading back over the railroad tracks. The scenery instantly changed from that of a rundown street inhabited by drug dealers to middle class suburbia, where all of the houses were two stories tall and looked exactly the same, save for the color.

It did not take long for Kenny to reach Cartman's house. Sometimes living in a small, redneck town had its advantages. He knocked on the front door, then shoved his hands inside of his pockets and glanced around until he heard footsteps approaching the door, which soon opened, and he was greeted by Mrs. Cartman. She was in her coat and snow boots, keys in hand as if she were about to leave.

"Hello, sweetie." Kenny sometimes had a hard time believing that the owner of that nice, sweet voice was Cartman's mom. Despite her occupation, Kenny would have traded parents with Cartman in a heartbeat. It would be nice to be around someone that pleasant for a change.

"Is Eric home?"

"Yes, but I'm sorry, he's still sleeping, and I'd rather not disturb him."

Of course, he still wasn't above treachery, even when it came to Cartman's mom. "This is kind of an emergency. You see, I just called Stan and he told me Kyle's in the hospital. Issues with his diabetes. I thought Eric would like to know." Kenny made sure to put on his best kicked puppy look.

"Oh! Well go right on in. I was just about to leave to go shopping, I'll be sure to pick up a cake for you two."

Hell yeah, free food. "Thanks, Mrs. Cartman," Kenny responded solemnly.

Mrs. Cartman stepped aside to let Kenny in, who did his best to keep his downtrodden face on, then walked out, shutting the door behind her. As soon as she did, Kenny let out a snort, and started to head up the stair steps to Cartman's room, but then a better idea popped into his mind. He instead walked to the kitchen and located the phone, then dialed Stan's number.

One ring, two ring, three ring, four. Click.

"What the _fuck_ do you want, Cartman?"

Kenny had to hold the phone away from his ear to keep Stan's scream from splitting his eardrums. Eyebrows raised, he responded, "Jesus fucking Christ, did I interrupt you jacking off?" He did his best to imitate Cartman when he continued: "If I didn't know any better, I would think that I was talking to Kahl. Sand in your vagina, Stan?"

"Don't do that, dude. Why are you calling from Cartman's house?" Kenny could hear Stan sigh on the other end, then the sound of him flopping onto what was probably a bed or couch.

"I was here, I'm alone, he's upstairs asleep, and I want to use my phone card sparingly. Jeez Stan, I'm not the one paying for the card, and I _am_ considerate of this."

"And yet you're making long distance calls on Cartman's phone without his knowledge."

"It's Cartman." Kenny looked around the kitchen, wondering if he should grab a quick bite before waking Cartman up. Nah, Cartman probably has a count on his food and would know if something was missing, know who took it, and proceed with revenge plans. Best not risk it. "Have you talked to Kyle lately?"

"Everyday. He's wondering why you haven't called him."

"I have work when he doesn't have classes. Everyday? Does Wendy know how gay you two are being?"

"Fuck you, Kenny. Just call him in between his classes. Get a pen and paper, I'll tell you the times he's off."

"From memory, or did he send you his schedule?" Kenny opened a nearby drawer that he knew to contain odds and ends, and sifted through its contents until he found a black ink pen and a receipt.

"He emailed it to me."

"Then you memorized it. Gay." He put the receipt on the counter then poised his hand with the pen in it, ready to write. "Alright, shoot."

"Did not. Nine to eleven, noon to one, two to three, and four onwards on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, ten to two and... Uh..." Stan paused, triggering a victorious yell from Kenny. "Shut up, Kenny. Four onwards on Tuesdays and Thursdays."

Kenny scribbled down the times on the receipt. "Why hasn't Wendy dumped your gay ass?"

"Because I know how to be friends with someone without having to sleep with them."

"Oh, ouch. Right where it hurts." Kenny rolled his eyes, despite it being a telephone conversation, but he was sure Stan could detect the sarcasm in his voice.

"Are you having fun with Cartman all to yourself?"

"Hang on, let me check." A dramatic pause. "No."

"_Really_? Because I thought with me and Kyle gone, you'd be on him all. Night. Long." Much to his dismay, Kenny could practically imagine Stan humping air, which was probably what he was doing. He could feel acid surfacing to his throat.

"Aw, dude, _no_, sick!"

"What's sick?"

Kenny jumped, nearly dropping the phone.

"I'll call you back later." He hung the phone back on its receiver, then slowly turned around to face Cartman.

Over the years, Cartman hadn't changed much. Well, of course he grew taller, but with that height he also gained more fat, so his proportions were roughly the same as they were when he was nine, give or take a little width. He certainly got less shy about showing off his mass (not that he wasn't hesitant about it before). As of that moment, he wasn't wearing a shirt, and one could not tell from the look of him how high his boxers were really pulled up.

"What the fuck are you doing in my kitchen, po' boy?" Cartman gave him a half-assed groggy glare and crossed his arms. His voice lost some of its charming whine over the years, too, but he hadn't lost his apparent inability to pronounce his "Y"s.

"Well I was going to give your mom a visit in bed, but she had to go to the store. Oh, and Kyle's dying in the hospital."

Cartman's eyebrows flew upward on his face, then immediately furrowed back down to his eyes. "The Jew won't die until I kill him myself," he stated, as if it were a universal truth. He yawned, not bothering to cover his mouth, then waddled into the kitchen. "You better not have touched any of my food, or I'll kick your ass in front of a garbage truck again." Of course he was more concerned about his food than long distance phone calls.

Kenny just shrugged as he watched Cartman dig through the cabinets until he found a bag of chips and started shoveling them in his mouth like there was no tomorrow.

"Yeah, Kyle isn't in the hospital, but your mom thinks he is. She's getting us a pity cake."

"Sweet. You're leaving before she gets back."

"Nah." Kenny sat at the kitchen table and slumped in his chair. Cartman joined him on the opposite end.

They sat in silence, Cartman gorging on his "breakfast", and Kenny resting his chin on his right hand, staring blankly past him. After a few minutes, he started to drum his fingers against the table. Then he tried to drum his toes inside of his left shoe in sync with his fingers. He could hear the clock over the kitchen sink slowly ticking over the crunching of the chips in Cartman's mouth. Kenny closed his eyes, suddenly feeling restless. Was this how Tweek felt every hour of the day?

He jumped up, scooting the chair back. "Let's go. Stark's Pond. Or the basketball court."

Cartman paused inbetween fistfuls of chips to tell him, "Fuck no, Kenny. It's cold out there."

"It's always cold out there. How long has it been since you've been out of your house?"

Cartman seemed to ponder this question, but in the end he could only shrug.

"Get a job."

"I'm trying, asshole. Do you really think I want to stay in South Park forever?"

"Well, you are comfortable enough here." Kenny sat back down and resumed drumming his fingers against the tabletop. "Although I wouldn't want to end up living with my prosti-mom for the rest of my fatass life, either."

"'Ay!" Cartman threw a chip at him, which Kenny caught and immediately ate.

"Seriously, let's go. We could fuck with Butters or something."

"This isn't high school anymore, Kenny. Grow the fuck up, seriously." Cartman shook his head and rolled up the back of chips.

"Don't give me that. You were on Butters' ass all summer."

"And I'm getting sick of his whiny ass. How about Dougie instead?"

"He's in school right now. They started last week. Dog Poo?"

"No way, I won't be able to get the smell out before my job interview today. It's already bad enough that I'm around you."

"Tweek?"

"I thought you stopped fucking with him after Craig threatened you." Cartman got up to return the chips to the cabinet, then muttered, "Pussy", and sat back down at the table.

Kenny growled in frustration. There was no way in hell he was going to spend his mornings doing this every day before acquiring his second job. "I still have three hours until I have to go to work, what the fuck do you suggest I do?"

"Something that doesn't involve tormenting former classmates? Maybe _sleep in_, like I was trying to do?" Cartman was starting to sound annoyed. It was really time for Kenny to start pressing his buttons.

"I'm not a lazy piece of shit like you, fatass."

That did it. Kenny grinned as both boys simultaneously jumped up from their seats, leaning against the table, Cartman glaring and Kenny smirking, ready to jump on the table to kick Cartman's fat head in. Along with Cartman's larger size, he had also developed a larger temper that could almost rival Kyle's. Almost. However, to Kenny's dismay, Cartman's face softened, and he sat back down.

"I'm sorry, Kenny, but I do not think I can allow you to continue your self-destructive means of picking fights with me," he said sagely. "As your friend, I do believe that you should calm the fuck down and use your time wisely to review where you are going in life and leave me the hell alone. In doing this, you will achieve a state of happiness and I'll maintain a state of not having to deal with your poor ass."

"And I think you should go fuck yourself, but you don't see me making a speech about it."

The next thing Kenny knew, Cartman was leaning as far as he could over the table, practically lying on it, his fist crashing into Kenny's right eye. Kenny staggered backwards, then dashed around the table to put Cartman into a headlock. Cartman struggled, arms flailing. Kenny could feel Cartman's neck start to sweat. Cartman finally threw Kenny off of him, who just punched him back in his own eye.

"'Ay! 'Ay! Alright!" Cartman yelled out in defeat, doubled over and covering his eye with his hands. "Ow. _Ow._"

"Thanks for that. I'll see you later?" Kenny was so happy he could almost do cartwheels around his fat friend.

"You're so fucked up," Cartman growled.

Kenny walked out, and opened the front door to leave. Before it closed all the way, however, he poked his head back in and asked, "Was it as good for you as it was for me?"

"_Just go_!" Cartman shrieked.

Obediently, Kenny disappeared out the front door and started jogging away from the Cartman residence. He was on his natural high that he always got after a fight with Cartman. A fight with him always meant a fight won and a fatass in pain, even though he could feel a stinging in his eye still.

A good distance from Cartman's home, Kenny plopped down on a curb and stared into the sky, then proceeded to take out and light a cigarette. He still had that few hours. Maybe he could beg for another shift. It would certainly be more convenient for him, although he wasn't sure he could handle being in the same place for sixteen hours. He could barely make it eight, and he couldn't even stand to stay in his own home overnight.

Kenny couldn't just take Cartman's advice, either. Just the thought of emulating Cartman or his own father made him sick to his stomach, and he didn't think he could sleep that long to begin with. He had to stay active, whether what he was doing was productive or not. Everything he did outside of his home seemed to be a step forward towards his goal of getting the hell out of South Park for good.

Well, he did have time to waste, and he remembered a promise he had yet to fulfill that day. He hopped up, continuing what was going to be his daily jog. Whenever he crossed the street, he was careful to look both ways for any cars ready to mow him down. Finally, the Harbuck's building was in sight. Kenny wondered whether he could spare some cash to make his visit worth the cashier's while. He probably couldn't. He grinded the remains of his cigarette on the wall of the building, then flicked it out into the parking lot.

Inside, he found the Harbuck's to be empty, save for a few customers sitting here and there, and no one behind the cash register. He stood in front of the counter, occupying his time by staring at the donuts and cakes behind the display glass. After a minute, no jittery blondes popped up behind the counter.

Kenny rolled his eyes, then stepped to the other side of the counter and approached the back room. He raised his hand to knock on the door, but stopped when he heard a voice inside. Tweek's in particular. He pressed his ear against the door so he could hear better.

"No, I have to go... Ergh, but what if they're still here? I can't keep them waiting! Gah, I know I'm the one who called you! Craig! I'm hanging up now!"

Kenny heard the slam of a phone against its receiver and footsteps. He started to pull away from the door before he was caught, but it swung open, and he was nose to nose with Tweek.

In a split second, Tweek's eyes widened and he screeched out, "GAH!"

"AAH!"

"GAH!" Tweek stumbled backwards and started to fall, but grabbed onto the doorknob in time. Kenny watched as he struggled to stay on his feet against the door that was swinging back and forth. After a few seconds, he finally regained enough sense to grab Tweek's arm and pull him up to his feet.

"Rrr, you're not supposed to be back here!" Tweek shoved Kenny to the other side of the counter, then repositioned himself behind the cash register. "Welcome to Harbuck's, how may I, ergh, help you?"

Tweek was practically bouncing up and down anxiously. Kenny remembered him being a lot more calm the previous day.

"Um... Kenny?"

"I don't want anything, thanks. Come sit with me again."

"I can't, I'm working."

"Fine." Kenny jumped up to give himself a boost onto the counter, then whirled around, taking care not to kick Tweek when doing so, to face him. He then clapped his hands together into his lap and grinned. Tweek just stared, glancing back and forth between where Kenny's ass met the surface area he regularly touched, and Kenny's shit-eating grin, with an utterly horrified look.

"You can't smoke in here."

"I don't want to smoke." That was a lie, but Tweek didn't need to know. "So where did we leave off last-"

"Is there going to be trouble?"

Kenny blinked. "What?"

"Your, ergh, your eye!"

Kenny reached up to touch his eye but felt nothing. His hand lowered right below it, and immediately felt a sting. That fat bastard almost gave him a black eye.

"At least it's not... it's not bruised right on your eye?" Tweek's reluctant statement was twisted into a sort of question, his voice getting high pitched near the end. "If- If someone's..."

"It's fine, we're not going to get any drive-by gangs coming here."

"_What?_" Tweek's shriek sent a few looks in their direction, and Kenny's recoil away from him almost sent him falling backwards off of the counter.

"Fuck, Tweek, calm down! It was just Cartman." By then, Tweek had taken out a small brown paper bag that was stashed away by the cash register, and was hyperventilating into it. Jesus Christ, was he that bad yesterday? Slowly, Tweek began to calm down. When he no longer relied on the paper bag, Kenny continued, "What are you worked up about?"

"You!" Tweek gave an involuntary flinch. "And everything! Ugh! Just leave!"

"Calm down," Kenny repeated, though he wasn't sure if he really wanted Tweek to obey. He forgot how much fun it was to pick on him in middle school. Sure, he was being an immature asshole, but he needed his kicks from somewhere. Still, something in the very back of his mind felt sorry for the spazz.

Tweek didn't talk, but rather stared at the ground, until he closed his eyes and only stood there, shaking slightly. He finally reopened them, then walked away. Kenny opened his mouth to protest, but saw that he was just pouring himself a cup of coffee. He walked back and leaned against the wall, facing Kenny, and sipped on it. Kenny swung his legs back and forth, waiting, but Tweek wasn't going to say anything anytime soon.

"So... Ah, how have things been going?"

Nothing. Kenny was really getting tired of awkward silences that seemed to be occurring rather frequently lately. He started to say something else, but Tweek took a big gulp of his drink, choked it down, and finally responded: "Okay."

"Just okay? You were kinda freaking out earlier."

Tweek said nothing, opting instead to stare at the floor again. Kenny didn't blame him. With the exception of the previous day, he probably hadn't spoken a word to Tweek for four years due to his inability to bully him. Then again, he wasn't expecting him to spill his deepest, darkest secrets.

"It's just I, er, my dad's trying to get a new Harbuck's built in Westhaven so I can manage it and live on my own. But, errr, not really on my own, but getting an apartment and rooming with Craig," Tweek finally said, then, after another sip of coffee, his voice started to strain once more when he continued, "And Craig's just been acting really, really weird lately and I'm not sure if I really want to leave South Park and I don't think I can handle this pressure!"

Tweek's shaking started to worsen, and his iron grip on his cup of coffee popped the lid off, but Tweek didn't seem to notice. Once more, Kenny found himself trying to calm him down.

"Hey, hey. At least you'll be with a friend, right?" A friend? Kenny could hardly call Craig a friend, seeing as how even though he was off-limits when it came to picking on Tweek, Craig managed to more than make up for Kenny's absence. However, he really wasn't going to test Tweek's feelings on that issue at this moment. Not with the state he was in. Not wanting to leave South Park? Tweek really _was_ crazy.

"Yeah, I- ergh, I guess." Tweek took another swig of his coffee, still not noticing the missing lid, or just choosing not to care. "I just... ugh, what about you?" He looked at Kenny's eye. "Are you planning on leaving South Park too?"

"I have a savings account just for that purpose."

"Really? How much do you have saved up?" Tweek's right eye twitched a few times.

How much _did_ he have? To be honest, Kenny hadn't checked the balance in his account for a couple of years. At first he looked at the bank statement sent to him every month, but the amount just seemed to build up so slowly that after a while, he just got sick of looking at it. Afterwards, he just started burning the statements as soon as he could get a hold of them to make sure that neither he nor his parents could look at it. He really didn't care to see how far away from his goal he really was at the moment.

So Kenny just shrugged. "Not much."

"Oh." Tweek looked at the eye again. "Um... Aren't you and Cartman friends?"

"Yeah."

"So why did he punch you?"

"I just pissed him off. But I got him back, and I'm pretty sure he has a black eye right now."

Kenny was surprised when Tweek looked up at him with pure awe. Surprised because one, he suddenly realized that Tweek was actually looking up at him because for once, he had a height advantage because of his position on the counter. He never realized how tall Tweek was before. Doesn't coffee stunt one's growth? For another, he rarely ever got that look of admiration.

"You're not- you're not scared of him?"

"No. Are you?"

"Kind of. I mean he hasn't... ergh, he hasn't messed with me in a while. He stopped about the same time you did. But he's still... You're really not scared of him?"

Kenny laughed. He couldn't help it, even when Tweek started to look downright offended. "You think he's scarier than _me_?"

"Well he's... I don't know, he's bigger. And he made a kid eat his own parents. I think he tried to kill me once when I accidently tripped him in the sixth grade. I'm sure I wouldn't put a knife in my own locker set to fall on me when I opened it. And-"

"Alright, alright, I get it."

Their conversation continued on for a while, with the odd customer coming in, some doing their best to ignore Kenny, and some turning away and heading right back out the door when seeing Kenny's most likely unsanitary ass intruding into their order. Despite this, Tweek didn't try to kick Kenny off of the counter. Tweek even gave Kenny a donut free of charge. If Kenny were a regular, polite person, he would have declined or paid for it. But Kenny was Kenny, and he scarfed it down before Tweek could change his mind. He already had to pass up free cake in favor of a fight and "battle scars" that day.

After who knows how long (Kenny certainly didn't), the little bell at the top of the Harbuck's entrance rang, and in came a teen in a blue jacket and hat. Kenny twisted his head to look at him, and the other stared right back at him, then flipped him off.

"Kenny."

"Hey, Craig." Kenny turned back around to look at Tweek, whose mouth was continuously twitching, as if he couldn't decide whether he wanted to smile or not.

Kenny swung around to face the other side of the counter then jumped off of it to allow Craig a clear view of Tweek, who finally decided on a bright smile.

"Mr. Tweak isn't here, yet?" Craig asked.

"No, he has a, err, dentist appointment. He should be here in thirty minutes."

Kenny looked up at the clock on the wall, which gave the time to be a few minutes past eleven, and wasn't moving at all. He raised an eyebrow. "What time is it?"

Craig flipped out his cellphone. "A little after three."

Kenny continued staring at the clock until he mouthed, "Oh. Shit." He dashed out of the Harbuck's, across streets that he didn't care to check out before doing so, ignoring any honking horns and general outcries and rabbles as he shoved the people on the crowded sidewalks out of his way.

After ten minutes of running, Kenny arrived at the local steakhouse, only to realize that his apron was still in his truck. Behind the passenger's seat, the one place he always forgets to check. But that didn't matter right now. He burst in, rushing past a glaring waitress and into the kitchens, where he entered an office with a man sitting behind a desk. It was similar to the Pizza Hut's "office", but slightly larger. Only slightly.

"Listen, I-"

"Fifth strike, McCormick. Your paycheck for yesterday and Friday's hours will be mailed to you shortly. Granted you return your apron, of course."

Kenny wanted to argue. He wanted to keep that job. He also knew that it would be pointless. So he just nodded, muttered a goodbye, and left.

He cursed his bad luck. He didn't check both ways when he crossed the street again. All he could hear was a horn, and all he could see was a truck speeding in his general direction, and all he could think was that when he woke up in his bed the next day, the day after, or even a week from then, back from heaven or hell (most likely hell), at least he wouldn't have that little bruise under his eye anymore.


End file.
